


love you like the moonlight

by fiveAMlight



Series: the things we've found along the way [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers, Dom Steve Rogers, Idiots in Love, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sex Worker Steve Rogers, Sub Bucky Barnes, Tender Forest Blow Jobs, Top Steve Rogers, World War II, i cannot thank odetteandodile enough for that masterpiece of a tag, nature lover bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveAMlight/pseuds/fiveAMlight
Summary: He knows this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.  He’s supposed to grow up, get a job, find some pretty dame he’ll marry and have a brood of slightly unruly but still generally well-behaved kids with who’ll take care of them when they’re old and wrinkled.  He knows that’s what he’s meant to do.He knows that’s what he wants for Steve.But if he's going to be honest with himself - honest in the way that only comes on hot summer nights when your brain's mostly mush, or a post-orgasm haze, in a way that Bucky rarely is - it's not what he wants for himself.Or, our boys are absolute idiots, but they make it work anyways.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: the things we've found along the way [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963300
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	love you like the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to click on this fic! I was originally writing it for (N)ASBB, but I decided that, among other reasons, I needed more time to do this story justice. Plus, I prefer posting things chapter by chapter as I finish them, so.  
> Here you go :)

Bucky almost can’t remember when he started loving Steve.

The truth is, Bucky’s _always_ loved Steve. Loved him since the second he first saw him, staring down boys twice his size with fierce eyes too big for his face. He loved him as a friend, at first; later he tried to convince himself that he loved him as a brother. But truth be told, as long as Bucky has had romantic love to give, he’s given it all to the scrawny, sickly boy who’s stayed by his side since the day they met.

The problem is, Bucky doesn’t know what to _do_ with that.

He knows this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s supposed to grow up, get a job, find some pretty dame he’ll marry and have a brood of slightly unruly but still generally well-behaved kids with who’ll take care of them when they’re old and wrinkled. He knows that’s what he’s meant to do.

He knows that’s what he wants for Steve.

But if he's going to be honest with himself - honest in the way that only comes on hot summer nights when your brain's mostly mush, or a post-orgasm haze, in a way that Bucky rarely is - it's not what he wants for himself.

Bucky'd rather die than admit that to himself, though. So he keeps telling himself that it'll be okay, that he wants the life he should want just as much as the life he shouldn't. Doesn't let go of it, even as the years go by, and he finds it harder to fall asleep every night without hearing Steve's broken, stuttering breaths next to him. Keeps trying to convince himself it's not something he needs, even as waking up in the mornings without Steve at his side turns from an inconvenience to a torture.

He’s still telling himself this when they’re fifteen and sixteen, and he loses his virginity to Mary Lee the choir girl. He’s still telling himself this when Sarah dies, and it’s all he can do not to wrap his arms around Steve and hold him in front of everyone at the funeral. He’s still telling himself this when they’re in their twenties and still playing make-believe like they’re kids.

He’s still telling himself this when he manages to convince Steve to get a place together. He _tries_ to tell himself this when Steve fills his room with ferns growing from old bottles and dozens of sketches of him after he gets laid off from one of his jobs.

He’s almost twenty-five when he realizes that he’s only pretending to try and convince himself anymore. He manages to ignore that, too, tucked away in a corner of his mind along with the inescapable truth that he’d written down in a journal once, when they were still young and not so scared: _I will never love anyone the way I love Steve Rogers_.

Until the day comes where he can’t ignore it anymore.

The day seems normal. He gets up for work, comes into the kitchen as Steve’s making breakfast. His heart pangs, as it does every morning, waking up to Steve there but not _there_ , in the way that he wants ( ~~needs~~ ). _Not mine_ , the unruly voice in the back of his head hisses, but he pushes it away, smiles at Steve while he eats. Steve rushes out the door before Bucky does. _He’s not yours_ , he reminds himself, but he can’t stop himself from asking “Where are you going?” as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Found a job opportunity down a few blocks from here,” Steve replies, shucking on the thin, ratty excuse for a coat hanging from the doorway. “Drawing advertisements for the paper.”

“Shouldn’t be going out in that cold” Bucky blurts out, mentally kicking himself. Steve sighs, turns towards him like he’s gearing up for a fight. 

“Bucky-”

“Right, right, got it, got it. Have a good day”, Bucky responds, pretty much fleeing towards the rusty kitchen sink to clean his dishes. He tries not to worry as he hears the door shut behind Steve, an effort that has some fragments of success as he pulls his own jacket. 

Through sheer willpower, he’s almost forgotten the constant bundle of stress in between his ribs as he walks through the cold, smoke-filled New York air towards the construction site. He’s so concentrated on making it through his day to see Steve again ( _he’ll be there, he’s okay, he’s going to be okay, this is stupid_ ) that he nearly misses the noises coming from the alley behind him. Most of the sounds are normal - it’s New York, for goodness’ sakes - but there’s something else, something he can’t quite pinpoint for a moment. He stands there, unsure as to why he stopped, until it happens again - a ragged half-breath, muffled by the current activity of the owner but - he’d know that set of rattling lungs anywhere. 

_Steve_. A thousand thoughts fire through his mind, rationalizing the situation (No, stop it, plenty of people get sick, that could be anyone, it’s not him, Steve’s working), but it's too late - he's turned around, looking into the alleyway, and it's Steve. It's Steve, but he’s not standing stoically like his mind’s eye told him he’d be. He’s on his knees, and there’s a man standing in front of him, holding his head, and he’s -

“Hey!” The word flies out of Bucky’s mouth, fear and rage and confusion all jumbling together as his limbs seem to move of his own accord towards the man, pulling him away from Steve and roughly shoving him against the wall. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Behind him, he can hear Steve inhale sharply just before he hits the man square across the cheek. 

“Buck, stop!” Steve cries. Bucky’s thoughts are a swirling mess, and he’s halfway through punching the guy in the nose before he can process it. 

He turns around to look at Steve, mentally kicking himself ( _He’ll get away, he hurt Steve, he_ hurt Steve _Stevie my Stevie my Stevie_ ) even as Steve raises his hands to grab Bucky. “Stop it, Bucky, stop it, he didn’t - he wasn’t making me do anything, don’t hit him” Steve rushes, and Bucky is so dumbfounded that he lets Steve pull him backward.  
He opens his mouth to reply (his mind already formulating an eloquent “Wha-?”) but Steve is looking at the man, addressing him, _apologizing_ to him and Bucky can’t even concentrate on the words long enough to understand them, he’s just so _confused_. The man walks away eventually, and Bucky wants to chase after him, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve sigh and tilt his head to the sky. 

He turns to face him, opening his mouth without any words planned out to say. “So - he was - goddamn it, what _was_ that, Steve?”

Steve sighs again, rubbing his face over with his hand before responding. “We’re poor, Buck,” he states, as though this were news to either of them. He pauses before continuing.  
“If only you were working... we wouldn’t be able to pay the rent. And I’m not gonna be able to find a normal job. No one wants to hire someone like me-” 

Bucky opens his mouth to object, but Steve presses on. “It’s true! Come on, Bucky - _Bucky._ Nobody’s going to hire someone who’s sick all the time. I can barely lift a stack of papers. What am I supposed to do?”

“Not this!” Bucky can feel himself shaking, and he hates himself a little for it. All he wants is to hold Steve close to him, to take him home and take care of him like they used to do when they were little kids. “Not this, Stevie, you don’t have to - we would’ve - we’ll figure something out, you’d never have to -”  
“What if I wanted to!” Steve says, loudly, too loud in the quiet alley. Bucky recoils in on himself internally, but Steve keeps going, words torn from his chest like he can’t stop them from escaping. “What if I don’t mind? What if I -” 

He crumples then, looking down at the ground. In all their years together, Bucky’s never seen him lose control or back down like that. It scares him a little, in a way he doesn’t really understand but can’t seem to let go of. 

It’s almost too much - he almost gives in, lets the part of him he’s kept hidden for so long escape - but instead repeats his perpetual chant of _can’t shouldn’t don’t_ , trying to keep his tone level as he says “So, what, you’re - you’re some kind of -” He winces at himself, mind screaming at the harshness of his words. He wants to curl up in a ball and stay there, he doesn’t know what to _do_. He’s saved from continuing as Steve interrupts, quietly but with power. 

“Say it.” Bucky just stares at him, somewhat lost for words, until Steve continues. 

“Say it. What were you gonna call me, Buck?” 

Bucky opens his mouth, closes it again. “I -”

Steve squares his shoulders, inhales, looks at Bucky. “I’m a homosexual. If you don’t want to live together anymore, that’s fine. But I’m not ashamed. I am who I am, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Whether or not you accept it is a personal decision. I can’t help you with that. But I -” 

He cuts off again, less forcefully and more trailing off this time. “Bucky?” A pause. “Hello? Bucky? You with me?”

Slowly Bucky starts to come back to himself. His mind is a cacophony of thoughts (mostly _what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu_ , _kisskisskisskisskissKISS HIM YOU IDIOT_ , and _ACT DISGUSTED ACT DISGUSTED ACT LIKE IT’S WRONG NO WHAT WHAT NO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT_ ), and it takes him almost a full minute to even remember Steve’s still there. 

He opens his mouth to say something (say what, he doesn’t know), closes it like a fish, tries again. They stand there, staring at each other until Steve sighs, looks down, and fucking _laughs_. Just a chuckle, at first, but - the situation is so ridiculous that Bucky cracks and laughs, too; fucking _giggles_ until they’re both losing it. He laughs so hard he’s not even sure what they’re laughing about anymore, but he feels so delirious with it, stumbling forwards to collapse into Steve. 

He’s not sure when it happens, when the laughing into his shoulder turns to crying, but he feels tears running hot down his cheeks, quiet and clear in his throat. There’s _so much_ , the enormity of what Steve’s just said crashing down on him as wave after wave of years-old sorrow blossoms from his chest outwards. Steve pulls away, holds him up by his shoulders as he looks at him with concern. Bucky doesn’t _want_ him to, wants to hold him forever, so much so that he only hears the distant tune of Steve’s voice. The part of him that’s been tormenting him for so long is screaming at him, but he can’t really hear that, either. He feels like he’s floating a bit, enough to let a whisper slip out without really meaning to. 

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

It’s Steve’s turn to stare speechless at him for a moment, but (do to some grace of God, no doubt) recovers much faster. “Yeah, Buck”, he says quietly, not quite matching Bucky’s tone but nearly. “I’d like that.”

Kissing Steve isn’t like he expected. There are no fireworks going off in the pit of his stomach, no swooping revelation of sensuality. In some ways, it’s the same as the girls he’s kissed, the same softness of parted lips mixed with the hot moisture that comes with being within such close proximity of another’s mouth. In others, though, it’s not even close to similar. There’s no awkwardness, no uncomfortable explorations. They’ve never kissed before - out of all the lines they’d crossed back when they were kids before they understood what they meant, that was never one of them - but it felt like they’d been doing this all their lives. 

Their hands find each others’ waists in a soft, fluid motion. It feels new, warmth radiating from Bucky’s chest through his body in a way he’s never felt before; but it feels practiced, too, like they’ve had years and years to find a comfortable, familiar rhythm of lips and hands and hearts and breath. 

He’s not sure how long they kiss for ( _not long enough_ , his mind supplies), but eventually Steve pulls away. Bucky makes a soft whine of disappointment he knows he’ll be embarrassed about later, but he’s honestly too out of it to care right now. Steve shushes him, bringing his hands up to rub Bucky’s upper arms as he presses a quick kiss to the dimple of his chin before looking around furtively. 

The motion is enough to bring Bucky back to reality a bit, pulling him out of the floaty, private world he’d drifted into back to the real world. And _oh, right_ , they’re not safely tucked away in a pocket world consisting of just the two of them; they’re in an alley off of one of the busiest streets of New York City, where what they’re doing could get them thrown in jail ( _or killed, depending on who finds them and how lucky they are_ ). 

As his brain slowly starts to warm up again, the part of his mind which had been blissfully silent for the past few minutes seems to remember its function. Before he has time to dwell too much, though, Steve drops his arms and grabs Bucky’s hand, bringing him back out of his head. 

“You doing okay there, pal?” he asks, his tone joking but the words laced with concern. Bucky shakes his head, resists the urge to clear his throat before managing to croak out “I’m gold.” He musters a grin, his voice scratchy in a way he already regrets. Steve looks him straight in the eye for a moment, taking a breath before saying, “You wanna go back to the apartment?” 

Bucky takes a moment to register the implications, feeling as lost for words as he had been a few minutes ago. Steve holds his gaze, the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his eyes returning for a fleeting second before speaking again in the same firm tone that Bucky’s heard him use so many times in arguments and brawls. “We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. But you can’t go back to work right now, and it’s not safe for us to stay here.”

Bucky doesn’t understand the words he says, not really, but fuck it. It’s been _so long_ , and, well. _If this fucks everything up, what the hell?_ It’s not like he can live _without_ Steve at this point. And if Steve wants to do this...

“Yes,” he says, simply. His throat feels constricted, head light with the sheer buzz of nerves firing through his body. “I- I want that. Yes.”

“Okay,” Steve says, walking out of the alley. It takes Bucky a second for his mind to catch up, but he starts walking, too. As they near the opening to the main road, Steve lets go of Bucky’s hand. Bucky whines again, almost without noticing. Steve shushes him again softly. Bucky can feel his face turning red, but the floaty feeling is still there, buoying him away from the harsh thoughts that threaten to take over his mind.

He barely notices the walk home. By the time they’re standing outside the door to their apartment, the haziness has receded to an almost-normal state. Steve unlocks the door, the soft _clack_ of the lock skating smoothly through Bucky’s thoughts and clicking into place somewhere deep in his mind. As they step through the doorway, Bucky toes his shoes off almost subconsciously. Steve shuts the door behind them, taking off his own shoes and crossing over to the doorway connecting the room and kitchen to set them down, along with his coat. 

Bucky doesn't realize he hasn't moved past the door until Steve looks over at him. His face shifts into the smile he seems to save particularly for Bucky, a soft one with crinkles in the corners of his eyes that match his tone of voice when he sighs and says, _you're an idiot, Bucky Barnes_ , when Bucky's done something irretrievably silly like mix up his coffee and Steve's for the third time that morning.

"You with me, Buck?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, takes a step forwards, shucking off his own coat. He folds it up, crossing into the kitchen to lay it over the back of their chair. He walks back into the room before realizing he has no idea what he's doing.

Steve chuckles, then steps towards Bucky. He stops before they meet, leaving a carefully measured foot of space between them. "What I said before still applies. If you wanna stop, slow down, forget about this entirely - now or at any time - say the word. I don't wanna hurt you, Buck."

Bucky nods. He knows this, knows Steve would never do anything to hurt him (past their routine roughhousing, of course.) "I trust you" he says softly. "And - I want this. If you want it."

"Shit, Buck." Steve whispers, crossing the distance between them in one stride and taking his face in his hands. "Wanted this my whole life."

"Me, too" Bucky whispers, and then Steve's rising up and kissing him and he _melts _. He feels like he's spinning, the full enormity of the situation hitting him. _Steve Rogers_ \- the love of his life - is here, is kissing him. _He wants me_ , he realizes, before his insecurities can stop him. He feels like giggling, and he almost does, before Steve is wrapping an arm around him and pulling away just long enough to push him back towards the bed. Steve’s hands start wandering up, under Bucky’s sleeveless tee to feel his stomach and pecs. Bucky hisses softly when Steve scratches lightly at his chest hair with his fingertips. Steve pulls away at that. __

__“Bad? Too much?”_ _

____

____

“N-no,” Bucky says, inhaling sharply when Steve’s hands come to settle on his waist, rubbing light circles with the pads of his fingers. “Just- surprised me, that’s all, but it’s - good.”

“Good to know” Steve responds, flashing him a shit-eating grin before scratching his nails down his sides into the waistband of his pants. Bucky lets out a breath, arching into his touch. Steve smiles again, shaking his head.

“Jesus, Buck. You’re a fucking wet dream, you know that?”

“Don’t even-” His mouth feels dry, he swallows. “Don’t even have my clothes off yet.”

“Giddyup, huh?” Steve says humorously, sneaking his hands into Bucky’s boxers to cup his ass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re getting there.” Bucky _whines_ at the pet name, pressing closer to Steve. He feels _needy_ , like he can't get close enough. Steve looks at him again - he knows, of course he knows, how could he not - shushing him quietly, whispering sweet nonsense as his palms roam all over Bucky, like he's trying to touch every inch of him, consume him with his fingertips. "I've got you, Buck. Shh, it's okay, I've got you."

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. He paws at Steve's back, uncertain as to what he's doing but only knowing that it feels so _right_. Steve mouths at his collarbone, licking and biting softly. Bucky whines again, which makes Steve chuckle into his chest. He gets his hands under Bucky's shirt, sliding it off of him with only minimal limb entanglement and pushing him backwards onto the bed, crawling on top of him so his legs are on top of Bucky's waist. Bucky can feel himself slipping into that hazy mindset again, but Steve stops him with a kiss.

"Stay with me, baby. I gotta know what you wanna do, especially the first time, okay?"

"Mhm," Bucky mumbles, still a bit out of it but more focused now. Steve takes the time to strip out of his own shirt, sliding off of Bucky long enough to say, "Pants on or off?"

"Off" Bucky says, maybe a bit too quickly but, well, can you blame a guy? Steve chuckles, pulling Bucky's pants off. "Boxers, too?"

A shiver runs down Bucky's spine, heat pooling in his middle. "Yeah. You, too?"

Steve smiles, stripping them both out of their clothes, and _oh, wow._ It's not like Bucky's never seen Steve naked before - he can't count the number of times he's bathed Steve when he was too sick to do it himself - but never like _this_. He's never been allowed to look at Steve with want, and to _want_ him. It's almost too much. His heartbeat rises as Steve climbs back on top of him, his eyes heavy with lust as he leans down to press a kiss to his lips, the dimple in his chin, the side of his jaw, his collarbone. Bucky shudders at the touch. His nerve endings feel like they're on fire as Steve slowly kisses his way down to his inner thighs, fingers brushing their way up to wrap around his cock. He looks up at him then, with eyes full of mirth and something that might be love, if Bucky's brave enough to think it.

"This okay?" he asks softly. Bucky's too far gone to come up with a witty response, just lets out a breathy "Yes" as he arches up into Steve's touch. That's when Steve starts moving his hand, and _oh, fuck_. Bucky pulls at his lower lips with his teeth, biting it so hard he thinks he might split it. He feels like he's about two seconds away from jizzing himself like a teenager, and then Steve's moving down even lower to mouth at the sensitive skin where his inner thighs meet his crotch and _shit_.

" _Steve_ " he keens, writhing under his touch. He feels like he's combusting as Steve moves up his shaft to lick wetly around his head in time with his strokes. He's gasping incoherently, not even paying attention to the words leaving his mouth as he grasps at the sheets. And then Steve's fingers are moving down to cup at his balls, and he's licking at his head as he sucks his length and-

"Steve, I'm gonna - I'm gonna -"

"Come for me, honey," Steve says before swallowing him down to the root, the hot wetness of him overwhelming Bucky as his entire body tenses up. A tingling sensation radiates from his core outwards as he comes ( _for Steve, comes for Steve_ ). 

He whites out for a minute, slowly returning into a post-orgasm haziness. Steve is smiling up at him with a similar lusty haze in his eyes.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yeah," Bucky says happily, a loopy grin filling his features. "You want me to-?"

"Only if you want to, baby."

"Jesus, Steve" Bucky responds breathily. "Never wanted anything more."

Steve smiles again at that, filling Bucky with a fondness far too deep and emotional to be wholly safe. He pulls himself up the bed by his forearms to sit next to Bucky, giving him a kiss that's almost chaste, for all that there's tongue involved and Bucky can still taste his come in Steve's mouth. Bucky pushes himself up too, so they're both sitting, Steve kneeling and Bucky's legs splayed out in front of them. He can feel nerves in the pit of his stomach - the good kind, the kind that say _you're doing the thing you've waited your whole life to do and you love it_. 

Steve pulls away for just a second, and Bucky takes the opportunity to turn his body to face him, sitting cross-legged. It's the best position to be in to effectively reach Steve's cock, but it feels a bit too much like a game of truth-or-dare between kids for Bucky. Steve must sense his discomfort, pushing Bucky back again so his back is against the headboard, nudging at his legs until they form a wide diamond shape and climbing onto his lap so his ass is between Bucky's thighs, his knees making little bony triangles at 45-degree angles to his hips. He pulls Bucky into another kiss, taking time to explore the nooks and crannies of his lips with little swipes of his tongue.

It's broken off by a moan as Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve, jerking him slowly like he's heard him do so many times in the years they've shared rooms together, in the middle of the night when Steve thought he was asleep or through the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.

"Shit, Bucky - Bucky, baby, you're so good, so good for me" Steve murmurs as he leans his forehead against Bucky's, hands gripping to the meat of his back and shoulders like he's holding on for dear life. And nothing - _nothing_ could have prepared Bucky for Steve talking back to him like this, when they're sitting up in their bed with the smell of sweat and sex and come mingling with their breaths as they press against each other. He lets out a little moan at the words and the sensation of Steve's nails digging into his back, which gets him a kiss and Steve's nails pressing deeper. He's sure if he hadn't come already he'd be _leaking_ with it. As it is, all he can do is moan and press up into Steve, stroking him in time with their heartbeats.

"Shit, Buck. You're a fucking dream, you know that?"

Bucky can feel his face growing hot. He can feel the needy feeling returning, filling his veins and liquefying his bones. All he can think is _SteveSteveSteve _as Steve _groans_ against him, kissing him heavily. "Baby - baby, I'm close, can you -"__

____

____

Bucky knows he's close, has heard him come enough times to know what Steve likes. He flicks his wrist, steadily speeding up his strokes as he thumbs at the head. He opens his mouth, not quite comprehending the words that are coming out until after he's said them.

"Please, Stevie - need your come, need it, I-"

And Steve's coming at that, spilling hot and heavy across Bucky's fingers and both their stomachs as he panting into his mouth, fingernails digging so deep Bucky's sure they're gonna leave marks he'll have to cover. He doesn't mind. He likes it, maybe, even if he'd never admit it to himself.

Bucky strokes him through it, only pulling away when he feels Steve stop pulsing in his fingers. They sit there for a moment, just holding each other as they try and calm their breathing.

After a minute, Steve pulls away minutely, an action Bucky disagrees with on various separate accounts. He's not quite sure if he's ready for words yet, though, so his lengthy and intellectually stimulating concerns on the issue come out as more of a protesting whine. Steve chuckles lightly against his chest, holding onto his shoulders.

"I got you, baby," he says as he traces the pads of his fingers over Bucky's collarbone. "Got you all messy, huh?"

"Mm." Bucky mumbles in assent, then, "Bath?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Steve says, returning up to give him what is really an absurdly quick peck on the lips, considering what they just did. "You want me to come in with you?"

Bucky feels that familiar twist of anxiety in his gut, but he's still too wrapped up in a post-sex haze to pay it any heed. "Yes, please."

"You got it, baby."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Posting schedule will be a bit wonky, sorry. I can't really give an estimate as to when the next chapter will be out, but I hope you continue reading!! Have an excellent day.  
> Edit: Sorry AO3 seems to be mangling the formatting. I'm trying to fix it everywhere I notice it, but feel free to let me know if there's somewhere I've missed!


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